A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week

My Usual Online Time:

Whenever the fuck. What's a sleep schedule?

Writing Levels:

Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable

Genders You Prefer Playing:

Male, Female, Androgynous, Primarily Prefer Male

Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive:

A fair bit of passive, but will take control of a story if needed and wanted.

Favorite Genres:

Fantasy, Modern Fantasy, Steampunk, Modern, Sci-Fi/Cyberpunk

Genre You DON'T Like:

Anything goes, but with an asterisk: If the RP is heavily centered fetishes and whatnot I'm probably not going to play it.

Rival farmers having a "who grows the biggest turnips" contest; local city-slicker comes around to visit his cousin who is part of the contest and laughs at how much trouble he's having with the process. Cousin then proceeds to throw a turnip at city-slicker and says "You think this is easy? Fine. YOU do it." Commence heartwarming story about appreciation for hard work and accomplishment.

General Alan cursed as he looked at the map spread out on the table before him. Troop movements and the placement of the enemy were clearly marked. It didn’t take a genius to see that his majesty’s armies were clearly out numbered. It didn’t take a soldier to understand that their situation was hopeless.

A slight shifting in the corner alerted the general to the presence of a new person entering the command tent. He looked up, glaring at the intruder as they gave him a very amused look.

“You think this is easy?” the general snapped at the new face, “Fine. You do it.” He threw his map marker down and walked away from the table. “you think you can salvage the situation? You think you can save this kingdom from utter ruin, Then be my guest, Tactician. Prove that we have not put out faith in the wrong person!”

Very aggressive. I can try to be passive, but really, I like keeping things moving.

Favorite Genres:

Fantasy is number one. Steampunk, sci-fi, alternate history, and everything else that isn't boringly realistic are also fine by me.

Genre You DON'T Like:

Anything modern, realistic, and without a good plot. Don't give me some free-form, unplotted crud set in a generic modern city. No bueno.

With a flicker of light, he was at the edge of the room, just in the corner of his victim's eye. The lights flickered again and he was in the doorway. Another flicker and he was behind a table. A fourth flicker and he was in front of the young man, hands reaching, tentacles extending...

"Dude, I totally saw you coming. Jesus Christ, Slendy, get your shit together. You aren't even scary anymore," The hipster complained, arms crossed. "At least the Rake looks freaky when he gets up close. The whole faceless thing is just so 2011."

"You think this is easy?" Slenderman demanded, crossing his own arms. "I've been doing this for centuries, and some little shit born in the past two decades thinks he knows everything there is to know about stalking, terrifying, and general evil. Fine. If my job is so easy, you can have it. You can do it." Pale and bloodless, his hands moved to the buttons of his suit, stripping off the black cloth. "Put on the suit, Jay."

This user has been banned for: Repeatedly harrassing members. Refusing to accept responsbility for this.

Still trying to find genres I don't like, but fantasy rps have to pretty special for me to get into them; historical rps intimidate me too because I'm a perfectionist, but I'm also too lazy to look things up

"My back is giving me so much trouble, do you even know what is going on down here?"

"Well, yeah, I guess I have a vague idea, but it's like, out of sight, out of mind, you know?" The man took a sip out of his coffee mug, decorated with a heart and his name on it. "When you get on stage, you just do. It's hard to be an actor too, you know?"

The woman in the pit crossed her arms in annoyance. "No. I really don't. Why don't you enlighten me?" She says sarcastically. The actor purses his lips and puts him mug down, climbing into the pit. They get all up in each others faces and spout some idiocies, then take something related to their roles and shove them at each other. Followed by two voices echo in the theatre, "Then why don't YOU do it?!"

I can tell my brother is getting annoyed. I can hear him sighing, trying to be as discreet as possible, but he's annoyed. I look once over my shoulders, at him, his tall form standing, hands stuffed in his jean pockets and head turned upward. Probably the same as his eyes. Rolling for the numerous time. I don't give a crap. I turn back to the stocked shelf, irritation playing on my face too. I wasn't going to say anything but since he was rushing me with his sighing....

"You think this is easy?" I snap pulling two opposite flavors from their respective spots. I throw the packages at him, clearly upset, on the verge of a meltdown. He misses catching the two packages of oreo cookies. He looks at me oddly.

"Fine. YOU do it!" I spat out. "You choose between gingerbread flavored oreo cookies and the birthday party ones! It's not an easy task!"​

The year is 1351, and the dead have taking over the world. "zombies" were not called "zombies" in these times. So the people called them "Death".

Most of the people were gone or infected with this affliction. Survivors tried to gather together to survive, farming was nearly impossible. In one heavily enclosed castle a group of seven, tirelessly worked to keep food made, grown and clean.

A slender man, with velvet, high quality clothes approaches the Blacksmith in his forge, His hammer clanking loudly with each strike to the Anvil. The man complained, " We all need armor, You need to hurry up before we all starve, we need herbs and odds and ends and..." The blacksmith cuts him off and throws down his hammer to the man's feet.

"You think this is easy? Fine. YOU do it." He growled, sweat dripping, soot covered, face twisted into a lions warning.

The man pursed his lips tightly and snapped away, nose held high into the air, "humph! I never" he exclaimed as he walked away from the forge. The blacksmith promptly picked up his hammer and the sounds of the clinking and clanking anvil echoed from the forge through the night.

As the kid hovered over the one armed pirate, he sighed in boredom. "Are you done yet?" Nani ignored him of course, too busy using her one arm to construct the contraption- that and there was a wrench in her mouth. "C'mon Nani you've been at this for hours! Are you done yet?!" At this, Nani dropped the wrench from her mouth and pointed a partially crafted arm Marcus' way.

"Oi! Ya think this is easy? YOU do it! I'm doing this with one hand kid! Keep it up and I will gut you and throw you off my ship." There was a slight pause and Nani's stomach grumbled. "...Okay maybe I could go for somethin' ta eat..."

Fantasy; I will give almost anything a chance if it has strong fantasy elements. Post apocalyptic, superhero, alternate history, science fantasy, some supernatural, romance, and a few fandoms (especially Game of Thrones) are also likely to catch my eye.

Genre You DON'T Like:

Horror, western, pure slice of life.

Hah, well, the first idea that popped into my head is very much NSFW and not appropriate for minors, so I'll spoiler it.

NSFW(Move your mouse to reveal the content)NSFW (open)NSFW (close)

A poorly timed laugh brought the whole production grinding to a halt, just one more problem to add to the heap. Rod Johnson, preeminent male porn star, noted for his extraordinary natural endowment, stood screaming at the unfortunate camera man (a simple fellow by the name of Bob) who had chuckled at him. It's pretty difficult to be taken seriously when you're shouting at someone while naked, especially while pathetically limp after the faux pas of finishing a bit too early and not quite pulling out in time, and it didn't help that the porn starlet he'd been working with was sitting there on the bed in plain view wiping his mistake off of her stomach).

Rather than striking fear into the hearts of the film crew it only drew more laughs due to the absurdity of it all. Once it turned into open laughter, Rod got quiet for a few second before turning on the original offender with a sneer. "You think this is easy? Fine. YOU do it. I quit, fuck all of you and your shitty movie." And with that he stormed out, which rather killed the humor of the situation.

The crew knew they had to get the porn flick done and off to the editors by the end of the day, and even that was after multiple extensions. Equipment failure, problems finding a place to film, diva fits from actors, and a slew of other nonsense had kept the production moving at a slow crawl. They'd been filming for a week but they only had perhaps 20 minutes of worthwhile footage. They all knew that they were expendable, even the female star for whom this was going to be her first full length porn instead of just a single scene in a larger work, and the production company would have no problem finding replacements after shitcanning the lot of them.

Just as the magnitude of their predicament was starting to sink in, Bob the camera man spoke up. "I'll do it. How hard could it be?" He was their best shot to keep their jobs, so everyone agreed to give it a go and hope for the best. If only he knew how wrong he was...

And then ideally it would be a ridiculous comedy that makes use of all sorts of goofy sex jokes and tropes, perhaps with added awkwardness by Bob starting to have feelings for the actress while she keeps him at a professional distance and is kind of disgusted by him, so on and so forth. Or it could be played serious and turn into a story of how one man rose to the challenge and became a porn god. Either way, it's a ridiculous plot idea, but that's what first came to mind, haha.

"Oliver, please hurry up. The rigor mortis is really starting to set in."

The sound of a shovel striking dirt and rocks paused as the one digging cast a slow, venomous glance over one shoulder.

"Oh?" he stabbed his shovel into the half-dug grave and wiped sweat from his brow, smearing earth in the process. "How about you help me, Len, huh? How does that sound?"

The man he addressed, a well-groomed blonde with attire too fine for shady forest escapades, took the sarcasm in stride. He was seated on a rock and using his latest victim as a footstool.

"You only brought one shovel," Lenny replied. "Besides, you're always talking about wanting nicer muscles. I bet this is great for your core."

Oliver relentlessly gnawed at his lip piercing. He was pissed.

"You think this is easy?" he snapped, yanking the tool from the ground and shoving it against Lenny's (admittedly broader) chest. "Fine- you do it!"

Eyes glued on his younger associate, Lenny stood up and grasped the shovel. The corpse beneath him made an unsavory squishing sound when he stepped off. More fluids leaked. Armed and ready, Lenny walked to the graveside and peered down.

"...The dimensions are all wrong," he commented like it was just Monday morning weather-talk. "Honestly Oliver, what do you want me to do, fold him in?"

The sound Oliver made was a cross between a sigh and a snarl.

"Fucking perfectionist," he muttered darkly, turning to storm away into the woods. "I'm waiting in the car."

TLDR: two killers meet up, form a mutual friendship in which they cover for each other, and do killer stuff together. Yeah.

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A utopian world where the truth lies dormant. Living in the shadows a small group of rebels try to reveal the darkness in the light, and instead paint a city in darkness, only to besett a candle in it. This is metaphorical speaking.

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"Welcome, to Centralia!" Said the grand Congressman of New Athens a grand Democracy, The main city of the Homo Primus, a people whose technology is so advanced, they may choose not to, and may not even know, how to perform the most rudimentary of tasks. Robots, and occasionally Mudbloods, the Neanderthallish, shameful step-child of Homo Primus, do the brunt of the work, and also provide ample entertainment, bloodsport especially for us Prime. Centralia is the new, most technologically advanced coliseum of the times. With this new coliseum, my reputation as grand champion shall go with it. I am known as Narcissus, and I am king of the arena. Beware Mudbloods, the Prime Homo Primus cometh. " You think you can best me," I said" You think this is easy? Fine, You do it, down me, and become champion."

Slipstream rupture, the pulse hit the ship and the machinery and lights dimmed. I felt the shock seem to ripple through the compartments, as if it were consecutive hits. There were no windows where we were, as the engineering bay sat in the core of the space station. The comm rattled on and a slew of orders rang out, for us, we had but one order. Keep this damn engine from falling apart and leaving a nuclear catastrophe hovering just outside the Earths atmosphere. Explosions rang out and knocked us off our feet, we were being fired upon and the hull of the station was being ripped apart. We had only two choices; shut the engines down or set an overload sequence and run like the devil is nipping as our ankles.

We chose the second option, as but a few moments later a projectile came bursting through the exterior platforms and put a hole through three ventilation shafts. A station-wide order resounded for evacuation, but we already knew we weren't leaving. It was too late, so our only choice now was to ensure we could make one of the most expensive bombs in history take half the alien fleet with it. It was Reeve and I left, trapped in the console block, doing everything we could to create a cataclysmic explosion. But we were running low on options.

Just outside the safety glass, two vent cores sat open. We began wracking the window with the tools and chairs at our disposal to no avail, realizing our time was nearly at an end we opened the emergency weapons. Three handguns and a box of grenades. Well, we were going to die either which way, may as well take a chance. I popped the pin on a grenade after wedging it the best I could between the console and window. The explosion busted through and left our heads spinning and the room capsizing. We were trapped beneath the beams falling through the ceiling with the hand grenades out of reach.

"God damn Jake! Just grab it! Grab it! It's right there!" Reeve panted under the smoke, his arm straining to reach a metal bar between the two.

"If it's so easy, why don't YOU do it!?" I shouted back as I managed to swing my arm back up and snag the grenade, accidentally popping it's pin. "SHIT! Reeve, I need you to hit it into the vent, I can't throw it from here!"

He'd reached the bar and swung it as I tossed the grenade in the air between us. It flung out the window and toppled down into the vent core.

"Well, it's been good working w-..." We were interrupted in that last moment by the destabilized cores as the station ripped itself apart in a massive explosion, sending an inferno through the cold space to consume half the alien fleet.

The sound of gun bullets and blood spattering echoed from the television. "Oh, come on... That's the fifth time that I've died." Complained James. It was obvious that he was getting extremely annoyed at the video game he was playing, having died multiple times without making any progress. He punched the couch in frustration and cursed quietly under his breath.

"Man, you really suck at this game." Remarked Dave. Dave, James' friend, had been sitting there the entire time watching James fail miserably at the game. He grinned teasingly and sighed loudly, as if to annoy and demotivate James on purpose. Though Dave was only doing it for the friendly banter and had no ill intentions behind his actions.

James looked at Dave with narrowed eyes; one of them twitched. He took a good look at Dave while the game reloaded from its last checkpoint. James was clearly not amused. Forcefully shoving the controller into Dave's hands, James finally spoke. "You think this is easy? Fine. YOU do it."

What immediately came to mind is a science fiction setting featuring large-scale archaeological digs and exploration missions, in which a young upstart finally drives his old mentor nuts. The old mentor then drops a bunch of overly sophisticated, cartoonish gizmos in the arms of the upstart and says "FINE! You go recruit a crew, and find your own archaeological dig site!" The mentor then storms off. Cue players being recruited as crew mates, then man-drop them onto an ancient jungle planet with an overgrown temple, where they end up finding...

I could go on forever, probably. Having been a GM for years, having to make up bullshit on the spot is kind of one of my core skill sets. Because if I can make a plot, a player can break it.

This user has been banned for: Disruptive behavior, arguments, and harassment. Escalating a situation that could have been resolved peacefully.

Her hands were aching from the hundreds of signatures she'd etched down onto scraps of colored paper. Too much cursive, she thought. Different signatures had different accents, and the girl couldn't decide which looked best. All of this for a simple permission slip, who would have thought.

"You got the 'M' wrong." A young male voice sneered from behind her.

"No I didn't. Molly Evergreen, that's just how mom writes it."

"No it's not!" The voice turned into a singsong tune, mocking the young girl and her poor attempts to forge a simple signature.

"You think this is easy? Fine. YOU do it!" She yelled in frustration.

Easily, the younger boy picked up the pen and made a flawless copy of their mother's signature.

She strummed at the guitar, trying very hard not to glare at the female opposite her. "Do. Not. Start. Alright, Silver? I don't play as often as you!!" The Spanish teen snapped. This earned a laugh from her lime-green haired best friend. She said nothing, simply continuing writing in her song book. Both girls looked up at each other. "Pfft, don't worry, Kaydhen, I wouldn't dreeam of it," Purposefully, she made her southern drawl that slightest bit stronger. With a rustle of paper, she picked up her own guitar just as Kaydhen uttered the words, "If you think it's easy, you do it!" To which Silver replied by launching into If I Die Young by The Band Perry, acoustic style. "Simple," she teased in between verses, "Perfectly simple. Easier than writing songs."

Minutes later, the song had changed. Kaydhen was obviously annoyed. "So, if you wanna know here it goes," Silver sang. Camp Rock. Wow. "Right!" Kaydhen announced, magenta hair tied up (recently, the "Rainbow Gang" had dyed their hair - Four best friends, three girls, one guy. Don't ask) as she grabbed a piece of lined paper, "That's it! I'm writing a song!" Silver laughed, still singing Introducing Me. The two others in the room, Lou and Bella, had watched this unfold. They stood by the doorway, afraid to do or say anything at all.

(Based on real life. Mostly true.. Aggressive "ANYTHING YOU CAN DO I CAN DO BETTER!!" wars!)

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Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays

Posting Speed:

A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week

Writing Levels:

Adaptable

Genders You Prefer Playing:

Male

Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive:

Adaptable

Favorite Genres:

Western, sci-fi, anything with a good adventure

Genre You DON'T Like:

?

Dwarves ! Goblins ! Wizards !
But they're in SPACE !
Space wizards ! After a wizards teleportation spell goes wrong,he transports him and the living beings around him through time ..
ON TO A SPACE STATION !
That includes the goblins that were attacking,that he was trying to get away from by teleporting !
Now he has to round up all the goblins while exploring an alienated and abandon space station !

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